


and then there was you

by littlehazandlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Cute Harry, Cute Louis, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, Louis' mum features, Not much conflict, Painfully domestic, Sarcastic Louis, Sweet Harry, Top Louis, Very fluffy, Zayn is Louis' editor, bit of a slow burn, bit of daddy kink, harry bottoms, harry has a cat, harry is a gardener, harry is a hippie, im really bad at tagging, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, louis is a writer, louis tops, there's a one legged cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehazandlou/pseuds/littlehazandlou
Summary: "Well Louis who broke into my garden. I'm Harry. This is my garden." the guy, Harry, says, his face breaking out into a bright grin and spreads his arms wide to gesture to the garden."Uh... Yeah. 'S nice..." Louis mumbles, looking at the guy suspiciously, "You aren't angry?" He asks "I just broke into your garden."Or, the one where Louis is a grumpy author and Harry is the hippie who lives at the end of his garden. Sort of.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	and then there was you

"Well Louis who broke into my garden. I'm Harry. This is my garden." the guy, Harry, says, his face breaking out into a bright grin and spreads his arms wide to gesture to the garden.

"Uh... Yeah. 'S nice..." Louis mumbles, looking at the guy suspiciously, "You aren't angry?" He asks "I just broke into your garden."

Or, the one where Louis is a grumpy author and Harry is the hippie who lives at the end of his garden. Sort of.

\----><\----

Louis can smell weed. And usually when that's the case, he's having a great time. Except, this time, the weed isn't his. He doesn't know exactly where it's coming from but this next novel he's being hounded for will never come into existence if he can't fucking concentrate. He definitely does not need that enticing smell distracting him.

That's how he's found himself at two in the morning going around his far too large house and shutting every open window that he can find. Who needs this many fucking windows, anyway? He thinks as he scowls at the window in his kitchen. He saved this one for last. He hates this window, why is it so fucking high up? He grumbles as he clambers up onto the counter so he can reach it to shut it, but pauses in his reach for the window as he notices something: a fucking house. Practically at the end of his garden. With the lights on. He's lived here for, what, five months? And he had no idea there was a house there.

He supposes that the brick of the house would blend in with the trees during the day, and now at night with the lights on its far more noticeable.

Still. He's irritable most days and now whoever is in there is probably smoking weed and its annoying him because he got a very rare burst of somewhat inspiration to write and now it's gone so he's irritated. Even though they could probably smell it when he lit up yesterday. He's still pissed.

When he had moved to the countryside he thought it would help him clear his head so he could get over his stupid writers block, and actually be able to publish another novel. It's hard though when your first and second books did so well - far more is expected of him. And so all it's actually managed to do is make him miss his friends and mope around all day because of it. And watch Netflix. And jerk off far too much for his body to handle. There's only so much one can do when the only other company in the local area is a bunch of oldies with too much money and the sheep (or goats? Louis doesn't know, he's from Doncaster.) in the field next door.

At least he thought they were the only company. He's apparently been proven wrong if the lights at the end of his garden are anything to go by.

Louis squints to try and get a clearer view of the house, but it's still mostly covered by the trees at the end of his own garden. Surely the house isn't actually on the land he owns. He would have been told about that, wouldn't he?

The house definitely looks old, if the exterior of old bricks peeping through the trees is anything to go by, but why and how hasn't he noticed it before? It looks big. Not quite as bug as Louis' own house, but big.

"Fucking two o'clock in the morning? Really?" He grumbles to himself as he trudges up to his bedroom - he's too grumpy to work now anyway, he tells himself. They can wait until the morning. At least that's what he'll tell Zayn when the editor calls him.

It's probably just another grumpy old man, woman or couple living there on their own who would only grumble at Louis as soon as they saw his skinny jeans and trainers. Thats what the other people around him have done. The house definitely looks old enough for it to be someone older living there.

The couple that Louis had bought his own house from were younger, so his was modern. Probably another reason the older people around him weren't happy - he ruins their aesthetic. Whatever.

\----><\----

Louis' eyes are blurry as he wakes up the next morning. It's far too early, if the bright red 'eleven' on his alarm clock is anything to go by. But, yep, that's definitely his phone ringing, isn't it?

Louis groans and grabs the phone, swiping to answer "What?" he snaps.

"That's definitely no way to talk to the woman who raised you."

Louis can already hear the smile in her voice, "Sorry, mum..." He mumbles, his cheeks pinking slightly.

"Hi, baby... How are you?"

"The same as yesterday, really." Louis says with a sigh, sitting up and running a hand over his face, "Although I did notice something kind of weird last night..." He says around a yawn, climbing out of bed to trudge down to the kitchen.

"Oh?" Comes his mothers reply.

Louis loves calls from his mum. She doesn't push him. Doesn't ask about work. And she's always so patient with him.

"Yeah, I was trying to shut the kitchen window, you know how I have to climb onto the counter, because the house smelt like weed, and it turns out there's a fucking house right near the end of my garden!" He says, making his way down the stairs.

His mother laughing was certainly not what he expected, and he stops midway down the staircase to scowl at the ground.

"What?" He grumbles, still agitated from the night before.

"Oh, don't be like that, Boo." Joanna chastises softly, "But yes, I did know. It was even written on the listing! And it was quite clear in the photographs you sent to me."

"Really?" Louis asks with a frown, diverting to the living room instead and towards the glass doors that open up onto his garden. He pushes them open and steps out, frowning as he realises that his mother is right, it really is quite obvious. He can see it clear as day.

"Oh... How did I not notice that?" He mumbles, the phone still pressed to his ear.

"You've been in your own little bubble. Sometimes you just need to look around you a bit more. There's more inspiration in your surroundings than you think, my love." Joanna says gently and, again, Louis can hear the smile in his mothers voice, and he can picture her now: She's probably sat at the kitchen table, a hand curled around a mug of tea as she talks. God, he misses her.

"Yeah... I guess..." Louis mumbles begrudgingly.

"Why don't you go and have a closer look? Maybe there's someone new and exciting living there, mhmm?"

"Or some old fart who'll hate me on sight."

"Give it a try, Lou." Joanna says around a chuckle, "Don't base your immediate opinion on the rest of the people you've met."

Why is she always so wise? Louis thinks as he sighs defeatedly (Not that he was really fighting the suggestion to begin with, he's curious now. But his mother definitely does not need to know that.).

"Alright, fine..." He grumbles and turns to head back inside, "I'll go have a look later."

"Okay! Let me know how it goes!" His mother says and is quick to say her 'I love you's and 'goodbye's before she's hanging up. Clever. Louis would probably have changed his mind otherwise.

Louis grumbles as he goes into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on as he goes to the fridge. Only to find it virtually empty. Figures.

Microwave porridge it is.

Once he's got his tea and a bowl of porridge, he makes his way into the garden to actually sit out there to eat for once. It definitely has nothing to do with the mysterious house, he tells himself as he starts to eat.

There's just something about the house that seems to be drawing him in, Louis tries to convince himself as he makes his way upstairs to get dressed in joggers, a jumper and a beanie. He pulls his old Air Force 1's on as he leaves the back garden then, starting to trudge his way up to the back of his garden, realising as he does that in all the time he's lived here he's never gone more than a few feet into his garden.

It's a long stretch of grass, so by the time Louis makes it through the trees at the back, he's slightly out of breath.

He also isn't surprised to find a tall wooden fence there, blocking his view of the house that he knows is somewhere on the other side.

"For fucks sake." Louis grumbles and huffs a little, turning to leave but stopping as he realises that there's actually a little gate further down the fence.

Louis grins and immediately walks towards it, looking around as though somebody's going to catch him and tell him off. Even though this is his own land. And he can do what he wants.

He slowly pushes the slightly rusted gate open, poking his head round to find that he's at the bottom of a much smaller, yet still not that small, garden. Flowers are everywhere in neat little beds, with bees buzzing around in the early spring air.

It's actually quite pretty.

The house sits at the top, with ivy climbing the walls of the old brick that Louis had noticed.

The garden is definitely far too well kept for no one to be here, and there isn't another house for ages, so this is definitely where the weed smell was coming from.

"Hello?" Louis calls quietly, gently letting the fence fall closed behind him as he looks around again.

Theres a hammock hanging from two trees at the end of the garden just to the right of Louis, with an old little garden table next to it. And to the left, is a little vegetable patch, complete with growing produce.

Who is this person? Louis thinks to himself as he starts to make his way up the garden, disregarding the fact that this is actually someones property and that he's technically trespassing right now.

Half way up the garden, however, Louis nearly gets the fright of his life when he feels something brushing against his ankle. He looks down to find, however, that its only a white cat. With three legs.

"You fucking scared me..." Louis grumbles, crouching down to hold his hand out for the cat to sniff, "Do you live here, mhmm?" He asks softly, scratching the cats head gently, getting only a purr in response. As expected. It is a cat.

Louis sighs and stands then, brushing his hands off on his joggers and looking back up at the house briefly before back down at the cat.

"What do you think?" He asks again, "Is it creepy that I'm here? I mean, you seem to like me enough, but who knows if your owner will." He says conversationally, frowning down at the animal "I'm talking to a fucking cat." He mumbles and sighs, the cat winding its way between his legs with a soft meow.

Louis glances around the garden again and is about to start having a better look around when he hears the creek of a door and a deep voice calling out:

"Gypsy! Lunch!" they call and of course the cat fucking abandons Louis, trotting off towards the voice.

Louis' head snaps up and he freezes, looking towards the house to see a guy stood just outside on the little path, also frozen mid bite of what appears to be toast as he stares at Louis with wide eyes, the cat - Gypsy, apparently - is now winding its way around the mans legs.

"Uh-"

"What the fuck are you doing in my garden?!" The man shrieks, hurriedly trying to cover himself slightly, Louis only now realising that the man is only wearing what looks to be a silk fucking robe.

"Well- I, uh-i was just- Iliveinthehouseoverthere." Louis gets out in a breath, gesturing vaguely behind himself with a wince, already starting to back away.

The guy just stares at Louis with wide eyes, clearly alarmed "I thought that Clare and Marcus lived in there?" he asks, eyes flicking up to the house briefly.

"Uh... They, um, they moved out a while ago. I bought it." Louis says, still frozen where he stands.

"Okay..." The guy says, starting to relax as he realises that Louis really doesn't look like much of a threat, "But why are you here?" The guy asks, crossing his arms, but, Louis notices, more to keep himself warm than because he's angry. He looks more genuinely curious than anything.

"Well... I've been here a while, and I just never noticed that there was a house here. I mean, looking at it now it's quite obvious but, yeah. I saw it last night and thought I would come and check it out? Oh, god, that sounds really creepy, doesn't it?" Louis asks, scratching the back of his neck and sighing. Who would've thought that wordplay played a massive role in Louis' life?

"Right..." The man mumbles, glancing down at his cat "Well,-" he says, looking at Louis expectantly.

"What?" Louis asks, "Oh! Louis! 'M names Louis..." He mumbles, looking up at the guy properly then.

"Well Louis who broke into my garden. I'm Harry. This is my garden." the guy, Harry, says, his face breaking put into a bright grin and spreads his arms wide to gesture to the garden.

"Uh... Yeah. 'S nice..." Louis mumbles, looking at the guy suspiciously, "You aren't angry?" He asks "I just broke into your garden."

"Oh, hardly. I assume you used the gate?" Harry asks and bends down to pick Gypsy up, his toast long finished.

"Well, yeah, but it's still trespassing, isn't it?" Louis asks and shifts his weight to his other foot, a nervous habit.

Harry's grin only widens "No! Not if I'm welcoming to anyone who manages to find themselves here! It's like a little haven!" he says and smiles as Gypsy nuzzles into his neck "You just gave me a fright is all."

Louis takes this time to actually take in Harry's appearance. He's got long hair, past his collarbones, and incredibly long legs with a deep voice and broad shoulders. His jawline is harsh but his eyes are soft, gentle as he looks at his cat. He's hot. Of course the boy at the end of the garden is hot. And most definitely a hippie.

Louis kind of wants to fuck him. He tells himself that's just the loneliness talking.

"Right. A haven." Louis says, looking at Harry with slight confusion at his apparent lack of irritation toward the situation. If someone broke into his garden, he'd probably be pissed. Even though he doesn't even use it. And here is this Harry bloke, welcoming him into his obviously very well loved garden with no qualms over the fact that a stranger - dressed like a criminal in baggy clothes and a beanie - has broken in.

Harry just continues to smile, nodding softly "Of course. It brings me joy to be here, selfish to not share it, don't you think?" He asks and turns "would you like to come in for some tea, Louis?"

And now he's inviting him into his fucking house for tea. A stranger who broke into his garden.

Louis tells himself that it's just the curiosity again that leads him to follow Harry inside his house.

The kitchen is exactly what you would expect from a hippie like Louis is assuming Harry is. There are fresh fruits and vegetables everywhere, with a wooden like interior to the room. Except it's reasonably modern. Yet Louis can tell that the room is used often. Upon first glance it isn't hard to work out that the room has been refurbished. It doesn't look anywhere near as old as the exterior of the building. Still homey, though. Nicer than Louis'.

He glances around as Harry fills the kettle for their tea, humming softly. He can't help but wonder how Harry got the money he clearly has. Because he earned a substantial amount at a young age he can't help but wonder where people similar ages get their own. Rich family? Work, like Louis?

"Is this the part where you murder me?" Harry asks into the silence "One day inviting a stranger in for tea will end badly for me." He says, turning around with a soft smile.

Louis lets out a surprised laugh "No, I'm not gonna murder you." He says with a grin, "Although I am surprised that you invited a trespasser in for tea."

Harry shrugs "You looked kind of lost. Doesn't hurt to offer." He says and pours the kettle once it boils "Although you really could have come round the front and knocked on the door. I don't usually expect strangers in the garden on Sunday afternoons, and I probably would have let you in." He says and hands Louis his tea once its done.

"You're a bit of a hippie, aren't you Harry?" Louis asks bluntly as he blows on his tea, earning a giggle from the boy across from him.

"Absolutely. And I pride myself in it." He says, humming softly.

Louis grins softly. He's never had a hippie friend before "I've never had a hippie friend before."

"Well, Louis who broke into my garden, I'm honoured to be the first." Harry says with a grin.

It's quiet for a moment as they sip on their tea, Louis wondering how Harry got his tea just how he likes it, before the other boy hums "I'm gonna go and get dressed quickly, you're welcome to sit at the kitchen table, there's biscuits in that tin there. Made them myself." He says as he points to a lavender printed biscuit tin.

Again, Louis tells himself that it's just the curiosity that convinces him to sit down and help himself to a couple of biscuits as he waits for Harry to get dressed and come back down.

As much as he would hate to admit it, his idea that he was so convinced by to buy a house in the country, because it would give him so much inspiration, yeah, it hasn't quite worked out how he hoped it would. He hasn't been any more inspired and he's just ended up a hell of a lot more lonely than he ever was before. At least at home in London, he had his friends just a few doors down. And his mum was a quick drive away. Why he chose Surrey of all places, he'll never know, considering its a nearly four and a half hour journey to his mum and siblings.

He's starting to think that if he can be friends with Hippie Harry then maybe his plan hasn't been such a failure.

Harry is down quite quickly, but not quickly enough for Louis to have any tea left. He's wearing an oversized brown knitted jumper with green details on the bottom and on the sleeves, with olive green trousers. It's an outfit Louis would normally take the piss out of, but actually as he looks at Harry he realises just how damn comfortable that jumper actually looks.

Harry catches Louis staring and grins gently "do you like my jumper? I got it the other week, isn't it cool?" He asks and Louis chuckles softly.

"If you'd have asked me this morning what I thought of a brown and green knitted jumper, I'd have told you to return it to your grandmother-" Louis briefly feels guilty as Harry pouts faintly "but, as it so happens Hippie Harry, I'm rather fond of said jumper right now. It looks very warm. And it suits you." he says and only preens slightly as Harry grins again with a soft giggle.

"Thank you." Harry says and sits down across from Louis again "Would you like some more tea?" He asks as he peers into Louis' mug.

"Sure..." Louis mumbles and draws his legs up, crossing them on his seat as he peers at Harry curiously.

The boy is standing again now as he prepares two more cups of tea for Louis and himself, his long legs moving around the kitchen with a practiced ease.

"How long have you lived here, Hippie Harry?" Louis asks, leaning his head on his hand.

"About two years now, but the house was my grandmothers before, so I've been coming here for basically my whole life... She used to own the land that your house is on, too, but she sold it to Clare and Marcus and they built your house." Harry says, and it isn't difficult for Louis to pick up the bitterness in his voice. He decides to leave it for now.

"I'm sorry again, about... y'know. The trespassing." Louis mumbles and picks at his fingernails, not missing the way Harry smiles softly to himself.

"I'm really not angry, Louis." He says and turns with the two mugs in hand, placing one in front of Louis before sitting across from him again "I imagine you've been missing human interaction as much as I sometimes do out here." He says and hums "Well, I assume you're living alone?"

Louis hesitates before nodding softly "yeah. It's kind of really fucking boring, actually." He says and Harry giggles.

His entire life, Louis has found it hard to trust easily, with his dad stepping out and his mum having the twins, and the other twins, and the other twins, he had to take more responsibility. Fend for himself a little more. Which was fine. He understood. But it meant that he didn't really get the chance to actually get close to people - to form proper bonds. He had Liam and Zayn, but they worked for him now, so it was a bit different. He didn't have any friends that were just friends and not colleagues, but here he was talking to the hippie at the end of his garden, with no worries at all.

Harry could be good for him.

The sun is setting when Louis makes his way back up the garden and through the gate to his own house, and he can't help but feel like his house has never felt less like a home.

As he walks into the kitchen to get a glass of water, as he has a shower before bed. All he had really seen of Harry's cozy house was the kitchen, bathroom and garden as they sat there talking the world away, yet. Yet the modern and stark white of the cabinets in Louis' house are so clinical, and he realises that he doesn't feel even slightly at home within the walls of this building. That he felt ten times for at ease in Harry's little farm kitchen with the hippie boy sat across from him laughing at his jokes.

The tall walls and stark whites and blacks of Louis' own house do nothing but remind him of his life in London, of the meetings with suits and the conferences and the expectations.

Harry's home was comfortable. Decorated in warm oranges, browns and yellows. Soft. What Louis needs.

\----><\----

Louis is only slightly surprised when he's woken up at 9 a.m the following morning to the clear sounds of someone downstairs. For a moment, he isn't worried, until he remembers that he lives alone and his blood runs cold, his eyes snapping open from where they had slipped shut again.

This is it. This is how he dies. This is what he gets for buying this massive house in the middle of fucking nowhere. Oh god, he's going to die aged 24. He supposes that at least his life has mostly been a success, and at least his last day was spent with a cute hippie.

It's this mindset that has him walking down the stairs with only slight caution. It probably says something about his state of mind that he's walking up to a potential intruder with barely any panic.

Once downstairs, it doesn't take Louis long to work out that the noise is coming from the kitchen, so, of course, he heads that way immediately.

What he actually finds, does genuinely manage to surprise him. Because it's not an intruder. Well, kind of. But not the unwelcome intruder Louis was expecting. Instead, Harry stands in his kitchen with his back to the door as he - wait, is he cooking?"

"Harry. Hippie Harry. Have you broken into my kitchen to cook?" Louis asks as he walks towards the boy and hops up onto the counter beside the hob.

Harry grins softly "Good morning, Louis." He says in lieu of an actual answer, far too chipper for the early hour "yes, I did. You said yesterday that you eat that gross sachet porridge stuff? The microwaveable stuff?" He asks.

Louis pouts "It's yummy..."

"Yeah, and bad for you. I'm making you some proper porridge." Harry says and Louis realises then that Harry is stirring a big pot over the stove, and Louis definitely doesn't own one of those which means that the hippie boy obviously brought it up here himself and oh dear Louis is hopelessly endeared.

"You made me porridge?" Louis asks incredulously and Harry turns his body to the older boy, letting the pot simmer. Louis had to admit, it did smell very good.

"I'm making you porridge. It's not finished yet." Harry says and grins before turning back to the pot.

Louis takes this moment to admire Harry once more (how could you not?) and take in his appearance. Today he's wearing a pair of burgundy corduroy trousers, old school vans and a white t-shirt. He effortlessly looks fashionable, and it's a big contrast to the joggers that Louis' wearing, too big so they fall too low on his hips.

Louis also takes note of how out of place the younger boy - as he found out yesterday, by two years - looks in this stark white and black, overly modern kitchen. He definitely belongs in his own kitchen. With Louis there too, preferably. God, Louis is in too deep already.

They take the porridge out to the garden and eat it at Louis' outside table, easily able to enjoy each others company once again.

\----><\----

The visits every day continue from then on. At first, it was Harry going up to Louis' and waking him the same time and same way as before by apparently cooking as loudly as possible. Eventually though, around the week and a half mark, Louis got used to getting up at that time every day and started to make his way down to Harry's instead. He preferred it there anyway.

Louis just finds it so easy to talk to the other boy, and he thinks that Harry feels pretty much the same. 

Having the conversation about Louis' job was a bit of a weird one, though, because Harry had gone beet red and admitted in a small voice that he had signed copies of both Louis' novels ('You do not!", "Shut up, Louis.") which Louis knew for a fact fetched quite a pretty penny.

Louis' grateful, though, that Harry doesn't ask about work. He's pretty sure that the younger boy can sense that it isn't really something he wants to talk about, but the less Harry knows about the plan he's drafted about a sweet boy at the end of the garden, he figures the better. 

"Do you want to come to the farmers market with me later?" Harry asks as Louis walks through his back door one morning as he stands over a pot of porridge (which remains Louis' favourite thing that Harry could make, no matter how fancy a dish the boy makes), turning to Louis.

"The what?" Louis asks with a frown.

"The farmers market." Harry says, grabbing two bowls and starting to pour the, now finished, porridge into them "It's about a twenty minute drive. You've never been?"

"Harry. Do I look like the kind of person to go to a farmers market?" Louis asks incredulously, sighing as Harry looks at him with hopeful eyes.

"So you'll come?" He asks and, well, he did just make Louis' favourite for breakfast.

He sighs "Alright, I'll come." he mumbles and snatches up the golden syrup that Harry had placed on the table ready.

And, bless him, he doesn't even say anything when he sees how much Louis puts in his porridge. His face says it all, but he doesn't actually say anything for once. Baby steps.

The farmers market is, unsurprisingly, exactly what is to be expected from the area that Harry and Louis live in. There is definitely nobody below the age of 55 other than Harry and Louis, and yet Harry looks nearly the happiest he has in the short time Louis' known him (excluding that time that Louis told him that joke about the fisherman and he laughed so hard that orange juice came out his nose).

There is stall upon stall of fresh produce, and bakery stands and entire stalls dedicated entirely to preserves (Harry's face lit up at that: "jam, Lou, look!") 

Louis has never felt more out of place, and yet, with Harry tugging on his hand over to the various stalls and shoving bags of food into his arms, he's genuinely not enjoyed himself so much in a long time.

Louis rolls his eyes with a fond smile as Harry stops them at yet another fresh produce stand, "Harry, do you really need to buy tomatoes? You grow them at home!"

"Lou, I grow beef tomatoes, these are cherry tomatoes." Harry explains patiently - he's probably gone through this with the older boy before.

"There are different types of tomatoes?" Louis asks with a frown, hoisting the paper bags he's carrying back up his hip as it starts to slip.

"Yes, like, 40. Probably more." Harry says with an eye roll as he pays the lady there.

"Oh. I didn't know that." Louis mumbles.

Harry giggles "technically you did, you just don't remember. I told you last week when you were helping me pick them at home."

"Oh. My bad." Louis says with a sheepish grin, shrugging.

Harry giggles again and loops his arm through Louis' then, humming "Don't worry about it. Now, I think I promised you some Danish pastries, didn't I?" He asks and starts to direct them towards the bakery stall, Louis grinning excitedly.

Once they make it back to Harry's car (Louis was shocked when he'd found out that the boy drove a Tesla, and found himself wondering not for the first time where the boy had gotten his fortune from), they loaded the bags in the back then got in and started the drive home, giggling over the soft music playing as they chat the whole way home.

All in all, Louis definitely did not hate his time at the farmers market as much as he thought he might, and he has a feeling that it has everything to do with the curly haired boy now sitting with his head in his lap as they watch TV in Harry's living room.

The rest of his house turned out to be just as homey and rustic as the kitchen, yet somehow it was still modern? The only way Louis could properly describe it was that it was very Harry.

"Hippie Harry, I think you're turning me into a country boy." Louis murmurs as he plays with Harry's hair gently, the younger boys eyes closed as his mouth gently lifts into a soft smile.

"That's because you're a country boy at heart." He replies softly.

Louis doesn't reply because. Well. He's not really sure what that means. But also, he somehow thinks that Harry may be right.

He really does feel more at home in this house with Harry, Gypsy and the garden that the taller boy is so fond of than he ever really felt in London or even in Doncaster. He's not sure if that necessarily makes him a country boy at heart, or if he's just very quickly becoming a Harry boy.

He has a sneaking suspicion that it might be the latter.

\----><\----

"Say it's true."

"Hello to you, too, Zee..." Louis says with a soft smile, sat at the small table set in Harry's garden two weeks after the farmers market with Gypsy in his lap as he watches the younger boy tending to his flowers on the other side of the garden.

"Louis. I don't want to open it. Is it real? Is there really a draft sitting in my emails right now? I'm not going to open it and it'll just send me to that Rick Astley video?" Louis can hear the slight tinges of hysteria in his best friend come editor's voice. Poor Zayn. He does put him through some shit.

"There will be no Rick Rolling. It is in fact a draft. Wrote it myself." Louis says, his eyes following Harry as he flits between the plants. He's wearing white dungarees with a yellow blouse today. He looks very pretty.

"Oh my god this is incredible. It better not be shit." 

"I rather like it actually." Louis says distractedly as Harry starts making his way toward him, his attention immediately on the curly haired boy again "Hey, love..." He murmurs, relishing the way that Harry's cheeks pink slightly as he ducks his head with a soft smile.

"Uh... Hi?" Comes Zayn's voice through the phone and Louis chuckles.

"Not you, Zee..." He murmurs and reaches across the table to brush a speck of dirt off of Harry's shoulder as he sips on his tea.

"Then who? I thought you said no one lived around there?" The confusion in Zayn's voice is clear and Louis chuckles softly again.

"It's Harry."

"Harry? Who's Harry?"

"That's a funny story, actually... he's my... my hippie. Hippie Harry." Louis says and grins as Harry giggles.

"Louis. Lou. Have you lost the plot? Is there actually no one there and you're like, talking to the cows?"

"Zayn, why do you have such little faith in me?" Louis asks and pets over Gypsy's head gently "Harry is a real person. A hippie person who lives in the house at the end of my garden."

"Right. Are you... shagging him?" Zayn asks, the suspicion in his voice easy to hear.

Louis clicks his tongue gently and glances up at Harry, who's now opened his book and is reading, the sun gently beating down on him and casting half his face in shadow. He's really quite lovely.

"He's far too lovely for that to be all." Louis says softly and Harry looks up then, blushing brightly and grinning.

"Oh. Oh. You're actually into him. Oh, right. You asked him out yet?"

"Waiting." Is all Louis gives in reply, not wanting to make Harry aware of quite what they're talking about.

"Ah. I see. Well, I'm happy for you bro. And if he keeps inspiring you to write this much, tell him to keep it up." Comes Zayn chipper response "Have a good day, I'm gonna read the draft and get back to you." He says and Louis grins.

"Enjoy!" Louis says and hangs up, putting his phone back on the table before turning back to Harry.

The younger boy still has his nose buried in his book, absentmindedly taking sips of his tea ("It's lavender and lemon, Lou, I made it myself!" Louis didn't have the heart to tell the boy he couldn't stand the stuff.)

Louis leans his head on his hand as he admires Harry - not subtly at all, but they kind of tend to just stare at each other quite often, it's a thing. The boys hair is falling over his shoulders in waves, the top pulled up into a small bun so it wasn't in the way while he did the gardening. Louis loved Harry's hair. So long and flowy. So free. So very Harry.

Louis has gotten so used to the idea of spending his days out here with Harry now, that his life in London is the furthest thing from his thoughts. He can't imagine going back to his empty flat and spending his mornings, afternoons and evenings alone. He's even become fond of Gypsy. He didn't realise just how enamoured he would become with the younger boy in such a short time.

He felt like he was back in school, with a crush on a cute boy who gives him butterflies when he smiles and who smells like lavender or rose depending on the day. And who has long hair, green eyes and dresses like he's walked out of Paris fashion week.

"Haz?" Louis murmures softly, sipping on his own tea - Yorkshire, thank you very much.

Harry looks up then and smiles (butterflies) at Louis "mhmm?" he asks softly.

"I think you're really quite lovely. You know that?" He asks casually, used to giving the boy compliments by now and loving even more when he would blush and return them.

"Thank you, Lou... I hope you know I think the same of you, love." Harry says just as casually, leaning over to kiss the boy on the cheek before going back to his book.

Louis was still trying to work up the nerve to kiss the younger boy. He felt 16 again. But kissing Harry seemed monumental somehow.

Still, any kiss from Harry was a kiss to be cherished.

\----><\----

It was an evening a few days later when Louis finally kissed Harry.

Except. It didn't exactly happen in the way that he supposes either of them expected it to.

They had just finished watching 27 dresses, and Louis was pulling his shoes on to trudge back up his own garden.

"Alright, love, I'll see you in the morning?" He asked with a smile, turning to the younger boy who's opened the door for him - as per their routine.

Harry nods softly and smiles "Eggs Benedict for breakfast." He says and hums, shivering slightly in the night air.

They had spent the day together again, did some baking, Louis had helped in the garden. It all felt so domestic, and that's probably why Louis felt so comfortable - so comfortable in fact that he leant over and gave Harry a peck on the lips before turning to head out. It was so natural and he didn't even think about it.

In fact, he didn't even register that he had done it until he was nearly to the end of Harry's garden. His eyes widened and he stopped dead in his tracks, immediately spinning on his heel to head back to Harry's, knocking on the door.

Harry opens it with a soft frown "Lou? Did you forget something?" He asks and Louis raises an eyebrow.

"Harry. Hippie Harry. I just kissed you."

Harry thinks about it for a moment before nodding "Oh. Yes. I suppose you did." He says and smiles.

"You aren't... freaked out?" Louis asks and Harry hums.

"No, not really. Felt normal, didn't it? We've been kissing each others cheeks since week two, what's different with the lips?" Harry asks.

"Oh. I suppose you're right. Wasn't very special, though, was it?" Louis asks and pouts softly "I didn't even get to woo you."

"Louis, love, you woo me every day by turning up on my doorstep like Oliver Twist asking for more." Harry says with a giggle, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Louis' neck and bend down to press their lips together in a chaste kiss "was that special enough for you, my little romantic?"

Louis grins and nods, pressing another kiss to the slightly taller boys lips "Yes.But I hope you know I'm not going to stop kissing you now I have the chance."

"Darling, I'd be disappointed if you did."

And he didn't. They were kissing all the time now. Couch, garden, kitchen. Anywhere they could. Sometimes a proper make out session, sometimes sweet pecks. It was their hello and their goodbye, their thank you and their sorry.

It felt so right, and Louis wasn't really letting himself think about how deep he was falling for the younger hippie.

\----><\----

"Lou? When do you have to go back to London?" Harry asks one rainy evening as they're snuggled up on the couch in his living room - Louis' hardly ever in his own house at this point.

"Never, if I can help it." Louis mumbles, not even looking up from his computer screen, Harry's head on his shoulder as he watches the older boy type some touch ups to another section of his draft.

"But... what about your writing?"

"I'm writing now, aren't I?" Louis asks then, looking up from his laptop then with a soft frown "did you... want me to go?" he asks.

"No! No." Harry says quickly, taking Louis' laptop and setting it aside on the coffee table "But... don't you want to go home?" he asks quietly, looking at Louis with big eyes, the older boy unable to resist the smile that crosses his face at the sight.

"London? London isn't my home, baby." Louis mumbles and gently cups Harry's jaw "You are."

"Lou, you've known me for, what? A few months? How can you be sure of something like that?" Harry asks quietly "We haven't even been on a proper date yet..!" he protests quietly, the insecurity in his voice enough to make Louis sigh and gently pull the taller boy across into his lap. Harry accommodates quickly, moving to straddle Louis and wrap his arms around the smaller boys neck.

Louis takes the time in that moment to admire the lanky boy balanced somewhat ungracefully in his lap and smiles softly, gently rubbing Harry's love handles. He's wearing a large green knitted jumper today, thin in the early summer air, with leggings - he's been walking around in them for ages, teasing Louis. It isn't really difficult for him to come to terms with the feelings he has for the hippie boy - that he's in love with him. The realisation didn't come to him as some form of shocking tidal wave, just as a simple agreement between his heart and mind one evening a few days ago as Harry tended to his flowers and Louis watched. That yes. He is undeniably in love with the boy sat on top of him, and those feelings don't scare him anywhere near as much as they ought to. Because Harry's point is valid. It had only been a few months, but Louis was so beyond caring about every tiny detail and issue that he was perfectly content to just let his feelings be.

"Oh, Harry... Can't you see that you are quite literally the only thing that has made me truly happy since I published my first novel? I really don't think that I've been fooling anyone. Gyspy sees it, Mary at the market sees it. My mum even heard it in my voice! You are apparently the only person left in the dark."

Harry pouts softly and frowns "In the dark about what?"

"That I am one hundred percent in love with the hippie at the end of my garden." Louis mumbles with a smile, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to Harry's temple as a blush spreads across the apples of his cheeks.

"What if I'm terrible in bed? Or I snore really loudly? Or fart way too often?" Harry asks in a rush, eyes wide with panic "What if you actually spend time with me and I do loads of things that piss you off? You can't just take it back."

Louis raises an eyebrow and hums "I see... for starters, I know that you don't snore really loudly, but that you do make these adorable little snuffling noises as you start to wake up. And farting? Not an issue." Louis says with a giggle "And, just for the record, I find it very hard to believe that you would be terrible in bed." He says and smiles "Harry, my love, we've spent every day together for months and there has not been a single thing that has annoyed me. Apart from maybe your unfathomable ability to dress better than me for any given occasion." Louis murmurs fondly, getting a giggle out of the other boy as he gently cups his jaw "I love you, Harry, and I think that's perfectly okay."

Louis watches then as a shy smile slowly makes its way onto Harry's face as the boy starts to nod, "I love you, too, Lou." he whispers "is that crazy?" 

"Absolutely, but I think that maybe we are too, so don't worry about it." Louis says with a nod, leaning up to press their lips together again.

Kissing Harry has quickly become one of Louis' favourite things. Even better? Kissing Harry when he knows for certain that the boy loves him back.

\----><\----

It's a week later when they have their first fight. It isn't even a fight, really, more Harry snapping at Louis any chance he gets. 

"Louis, you know that's the wrong soil." Harry grumbles, snatching the packet from Louis' hand from where he was trying to help transfer some plants from pots into the beds around Harry's garden.

It was a sunny day, warm enough now for them to be in t shirts and jeans, and Louis had woken up excited to help Harry in the garden in the nice weather, but the boy had been snapping at him all morning over tiny things. He hadn't made breakfast either, which. Obviously that's fine, Louis' not mad, but he had told Harry several times that he didn't have to make Louis breakfast every morning, and the boy had insisted that he wanted to - that he enjoyed it. So the no breakfast was definitely a bad sign. Not to mention that Louis is now starving, but he's worried Harry will only get more annoyed if he leaves to eat.

Instead, Louis had arrived to a quiet house with a locked back door, when usually Harry is there with a cup of tea and a smile. It had taken Harry ten minutes to come to the door and open it, and had barely let Louis press a kiss to his temple before letting him in and going back upstairs to change.

"For God's sake, Harry. What is the matter with you? All morning, you've snapped at me. Why? Just talk to me, if you want me gone for a while, just tell me and I'll go!" Louis snaps. He had been patient all morning, and now Harry is snapping about a simple mistake - one he's never made before and that was merely a simple slip up. He just wanted to enjoy the sun with his boy.

"Then go, Louis! Just go." Harry snaps and stands, brushing his hands off on his little apron and storming back up the garden, slamming his back door shut. Louis can't hear it, but he's fairly sure, if Harry's body language is anything to go by, that the younger boy also locked the door behind him.

All of Louis' anger dissipates almost as quickly as it had come, leaving him kneeling in the grass with half finished plant transfers sat in front of him. Louis swallows thickly and gets to work, knowing how long Harry had waited for these plants to grow so he could plant them and refusing to let them die out here in the sun.

He takes his time, handling the plants gently as he plants them. He waters them afterwards before making his way back through the gate and up his own garden, his mind reeling.

Had he done something to piss Harry off? He was obviously angry, but whether it was at Louis was a mystery. He didn't remember doing anything wrong, but then again, he could be very ignorant to that sort of thing sometimes, and so he wouldn't be surprised if he had and just didn't realise.

The only issue now, however, was that this was the first time Louis had actually had to spend a portion of his conscious time in his own house, and he had absolutely nothing to do. He didn't really have any books here, and all the things on tv that he was watching or wanted to watch were all with Harry. He stands in his living room and sighs, taking in the overly modern decoration and wishing more than anything that he was still sat in Harry's garden with him, irritability or not.

He makes himself a cup of tea and slowly makes his way upstairs into his study. This room had been the only room he actually liked before Harry. The windows were almost floor to ceiling, looking out over his garden and at the country surrounding the house. His favourite part, however, was the massive couch that sat just in front of the window. It couldn't really be called a sofa, actually, more a large mattress style thing. He supposes it was originally intended to be a reading nook, but he had used it a lot for his own writing instead. And that, he decides, is what he's going to do with his time now. Write.

Except. Louis couldn't write a thing - his and Harry's little 'argument' was playing on a loop through his mind, and anything he put to paper (screen) ended up bitter and twisted in some way.

Fighting with Harry was... unnatural. He understood that arguments in a relationship were normal, that they were bound to happen, but it just didn't feel right. Something was off, but Louis couldn't work out what. 

He had thought that they communicated well. That they told each other things. But now Harry has told him to leave, and he can't work out how long the curly boy wants him gone for. Surely he doesn't want him gone for good. It was just a simple disagreement, that's all. Right?

It gets to three in the afternoon (the hours spent mostly staring out the window with an uneasy feeling settling in Louis' gut) before he realises that he still hasn't eaten anything, so he gets up and makes his way back downstairs, raiding the cupboards for anything to eat. 

After a few minutes of searching - he's hardly been here - he finds the packets of microwaveable porridge and sighs. He stands to pour the oats into a bowl before realising that he has no milk to mix it with, and groans as he goes to the sink and turns the tap on, filling the bowl.

"This is a new low, Tomlinson..." He mutters to himself before stirring the porridge and putting it in the microwave to cook. 

He goes back up to his study to eat the abomination and sighs as he curls up in the window, glancing over at Harry's house and leaning his head on his hand. Part of him wants to make his way up there and talk to the younger boy, but the other part of him - the logical one - knows that if the boy expressed that he needs space, then he should be given it.

The rest of the day passes in much the same fashion - Louis moping around and pretending to write when realistically he's far too distracted and anything he gets down will probably (definitely) be scrapped.

At some point, hours later, Louis falls asleep. He's curled up in the little reading nook, a cold cup of black tea on the windowsill and a blanket wrapped around him with his open laptop open to his side. 

He's startled awake, however, by a big hand shaking his shoulder, and yelps as he flutters his eyes open to find a six foot tall man wearing a bright orange knitted jumper standing over him.

"Harry!" Louis yelps in shock "What the hell? You scared me half to death!" He grumbles and sits up, rubbing his eyes as he wakes up. He swings his legs over the side of the reading nook and stretches, sighing softly.

Harry stands and fidgets nervously above him, taking a deep breath "Why won't you have sex with me?" He blurts after only a moments hesitation, his hands wringing in front of him.

Louis freezes mid stretch and looks at Harry incredulously "What?"

"You told me you loved me a week ago. We've already been making out for weeks, and you always stop it going too far. Do you not want to have sex with me?" Harry mumbles, looking down at his hands as his face turns bright red "Are you not attracted to me in that way?"

Louis sighs deeply and stands up "Is this why you snapped at me?"

Brief hesitation before a small nod from the taller boy.

"Oh, honey..." Louis says and pulls Harry into his arms for a hug, pressing a kiss to the taller boys forehead. If he'd have known that all this boiled down to was insecurity from the hippie in front of him, he would have fixed it straight away - taken Harry right there in his garden.

"You need to talk to me about these things, Harry." Louis mumbles "Because haven't we already established how much of a romantic I am? I want everything with us to be smooth. Well, as smooth as it can be. I didn't want to rush you into anything, and I wanted our first time to be somewhat special, y'know?" he asks softly, gently scratching at the back of his boys head "You're my boy, and of course I'm sexually attracted to you - I just want to make sure that you're one hundred percent positive. Because, and you can definitely correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that this would be your first time with a guy, right?" He says gently, pulling away to look at Harry.

Harry blushes bright red and buries his face further into Louis' neck before giving a tentative nod "but I want it. With you." He mumbles, his voice slightly muffled by Louis' skin "Want everything with you."

Louis' heart melts at Harry's words. He knew that Harry was bi, had been comfortable enough to come out to his family at 13, and that he definitely had plenty of experience with girls, but hardly any with guys - a few blowjobs here and there, but nothing else - this would be a big step for him.

"Alright, my love..." Louis says softly "you want to wait or go back to yours now?" He asks, his hands already itching to get all over Harry - this wasn't the direction he thought his evening would go, but he isn't mad about it, and something tells him that this is something that 'harry needs right now. He would be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about sex with Harry since he met him, but once he started spending time with him, he realised that he craved the boys company to just talk and just be in equal amounts as wanting to sleep with him, so he was able to ignore it until most nights as he wrapped a hand around himself in the dark. Never in the morning - that would be eating into his Harry time.

"Now. Let's go to mine now." Harry mumbles as he starts to press gentle kisses up Louis' neck, pulling the older boy closer by the joggers.

Louis lets out a breathy laugh before tapering off into a moan as Harry starts sucking just below his jaw, making him nod quickly.

"You got stuff?" Another nod and Louis takes Harry's hand, starting to lead him downstairs and back up his garden, into Harry's.

They barely making it into Harry's kitchen before he has Louis up against the wall, kissing him deeply "Lou, fuck... I've waited so long for this." he groans and pushes his hips into Louis' thigh, the hardness obvious.

"Jesus, Harry, you've gotten yourself all worked up, love..." Louis mumbles with a breathy laugh, kissing up Harry's neck, the arousal simmering just under the surface of his skin as he pushes his thigh forward and gets a breathy moan in response, Harry grinding down.

Louis smirks and grabs Harry's ass, pulling him closer and pressing kisses up the taller boys neck, feeling him shiver against him.

"Please, Lou..." Harry whines, tangling a hand in the back of Louis' hair and tilting his head back to give Louis more room to leave marks all down the column of his throat.

"Mhmm..? What is it that you want, baby..?" Louis asks, gently nibbling on the skin in front of him.

"Bedroom... Wanna go to the bedroom..." Harry whispers, his eyes shut as his head tilts impossibly farther back.

"Alright then, Curly, take me to the bedroom." Louis mumbles and jumps up, wrapping his legs around Harry's waist and arms around his neck. Now he'll admit that this move is partially because he's been in virtually every room in Harry's house except his bedroom and so has no idea how to get there, but also because he's always been in awe of how strong Harry is, and will take any opportunity to have the taller lad carry him.

Harry holds Louis close and nods quickly, the flush painting his cheeks apparently having become a permanent thing as he starts to walk them towards the stairs and up, only bumping into one or two things (under any other circumstances, Louis would have laughed, but as it happened, he was far too focused with grinding against Harry's stomach).

Harry is gentle as he lays Louis on the bed, Louis quick to look around. The room is very Harry, there's no doubt about that. It's big, with a couch under a big window directly opposite the door, an even bigger walk in style wardrobe opposite the bed, which is the real centre of attention. A four poster superking bed with stark white sheets and a yellow throw, fairy lights hung all around the posts of the bed. The frame is wooden to match the floor, which has a large orange rug on it.

This is now Louis favourite room in the house. The fact that he is about to have sex with a hot hippie in it has nothing to do with it. Maybe a bit.

"Harry, this bed is incredible." Louis mumbles as he looks up at Harry, who's positioned himself with an arm on either side of the boy below him, smirking.

"Good, because I want you to fuck me in it." He mumbles and leans down to press a chaste kiss to Louis' lips which are parted slightly in shock.

"But... Don't you want to top? For your first time?" He asks, sitting up and placing a hand on Harry's chest. He can feel the boy's heartbeat hammering against his palm.

Harry rolls his eyes "Just because I haven't slept with a guy before doesn't mean I've never had anything up my arse before, Louis." he grumbles and straddles Louis, gripping the front of his jumper "Stop treating me like I'm china. I love you, and this is what I want, okay?" He asks, looking into Louis' eyes earnestly.

Louis swallows thickly and nods "Yeah... Yeah of course." he whispers, flushing softly "fuck, you're gonna be the death of me." He mumbles as Harry grinds his ass down onto Louis' still clothed cock, throbbing in his joggers.

Harry grins then - little devil - and pulls Louis' shirt up and over his head, leaning down for a deep kiss, a hand on the back of the older boys head.

Louis is quick to take his control back, however, dominating the kiss until Harry is whimpering above him and rutting helplessly against his stomach.

Louis doesn't even realise that Harry has gotten it out until he feels the lube being pushed into his chest as Harry whimpers, making him pull away from the kiss and look at Harry, who's thrown his head back and it still rolling his hips slowly, his mouth hanging open.

"Jesus, Haz. Look at you..." Louis whispers, hands on Harry's hips as he guides his grinds.

He lets the boy continue for a moment more before pushing him back gently "right, on your back, Love..." He says and helps Harry lay down, immediately starting to pull his leggings down his legs, grinning softly "Knew you were the type to go commando..." he says and hums, taking Harry's leaking cock into his hand and grinning up at the flushed boy, who whimpers softly in response.

Louis hums and pumps Harry slowly a few times, his cock twitching in his hand, before bending down and licking a stripe from the base to the tip, Harry moaning loudly above him and lifting his knees around Louis' head, his hands tangling in the older boys hair.

Louis stifles a giggle - he's never had such an immediate reaction to a blowjob before - and takes the tip of Harry's cock into his mouth, sucking lightly and humming softly as Harry moans above him again.

He's quick to build up a rhythm, until he's bobbing his head up and down quickly on Harry's cock, and Harry is, once again, a whimpering mess above him.

Louis pulls off with an obscene 'pop' a few minutes later - he's not entirely sure how long, but he knows it was long enough for his jaw to have started to ache - and Harry whines softly, looking down at Louis.

Louis is quick as he lubes up his fingers, trailing the tip of his finger down the younger boys taint, Harry's eyes trained on him the whole time. Louis gently circles Harry's rim then looks up at the boy, "look at you, all shaved... is this for me?" He asks with a smirk.

Harry's cheeks immediately flush red and he whimpers, nodding softly. Louis continues to tease Harry's rim as he moves to hover above the taller boy, kissing up the side of his neck "Hmm..? All for me, angel?"

"All for you... daddy." he says it so quietly that Louis almost misses it, but he doesn't, he really doesn't - and neither does his cock apparently as it twitches in his joggers.

"Fuck, Harry... Jesus." Louis whispers, shaking his head "You are the devil." He says and leans back to look down at the boy, who's now grinning cheekily.

"Thought I was an angel?"

"Not any more, apparently." Louis says with a smirk as he pushes his index finger into Harry in one swift movement, watching as Harry's giggle dies in his throat and is replaced with a high pitched whine as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Louis chuckles "Sensitive, are we?" he asks as he briefly lets Harry adjust before starting to pump his finger in and out, gently rubbing the younger boys hip, squeezing the flesh and watching Harry's chest heave as he takes in big breaths, working himself up even more.

"Please... Please daddy, I can take it." Harry whispers and groans as Louis gently starts nudging a second finger into the tight heat, pushing Harry's hips back down as he tries to buck up.

"Harry, stop, you're going to hurt yourself." he says and tries to hold Harry's hips down with his one free hand, frowning as the boy continues to try and buck his hips up again. Louis is quick then to pull both of his fingers out, making the younger boy whine.

"No, don't stop..." Harry pants, propping himself p on his elbows to look at Louis.

"Harry. If you keep moving your hips like that, you are going to hurt yourself." Louis says sternly, making Harry pout.

"But I can usually get up to three fingers really quick..." He mumbles, blushing deeply again.

"With who, my love?" Louis asks softly, sitting down and pulling Harry across to straddle him.

"Um... My ex, Camille..." Harry mumbles ahd Louis sighs and nods, gently kneading the flesh of Harry's hips.

"My fingers are a lot thicker than Camille's probably are, honey." Louis says softly and looks up at his boy, who blushes even darker, nodding softly and looking down.

"Are you gonna be a bit more patient then?" Louis asks, reaching for the lube again and lubing his fingers back up as Harry nods eagerly above him.

Louis is gentle then, as he reaches around and pushes two of his fingers into Harry once again, Harry still sat in his lap. 

This angle proves much better, anyway, as Louis is quick to find the younger boys prostate, gently pushing against the little bundle of nerves and rubbing against it with his two fingers.

Harry moans loudly then - almost in relief - and throws his head back, starting to rock his hips. down against Louis' fingers as he pants.

"Look at you, riding my fingers..." Louis says in awe, kissing down Harry's chest.

"Fuck... daddy, more." Harry whines out, Louis quick to oblige as he pushes a third finger into Harry alongside the other two.

Harry groans at the stretch then, his hips slowing as he tries to adjust to the stretch.

Louis is patient, waiting for Harry and pulling him down into a deep kiss. Kissing Harry, as mentioned many times, is one of Louis' favourite things to do. Ever. And, as it turns out, kissing Harry while three fingers deep in said boy is practically an out of body experience. He needs to be inside this boy. Now.

"You ready now, baby?" Louis asks against Harry's lips, hearing the younger boy whimper above him and nod quickly, pulling away to look down at Louis, who pulls his fingers out.

"Definitely. Fuck me, daddy." He mumbles and yelps as Louis flips them over, pushing Harry's hips into the bed with a grin as he looks down at him. 

"Got a condom?" He asks, Harry still slightly breathless below him.

Harry flushes softly again "Well, yeah... But, um... I was kind of hoping we could go without?" He asks and his eyes widen at Louis' incredulous look "I'm clean, I swear!" 

"Yeah, that's fine, just... You want to go bare?" Louis asks, tilting his head to the side in confusion "That's gonna be... really messy."

"Well, yeah... We don't have to, I just wondered... can never have that with a girl, y'know? Cause, well... its not the real thing."

"So you... You want me to come in you because you never got it with pegging, and you want it inside you?" Louis asks confused, his neglected cock already twitching at the thought "Where it'll leak out?".

"Is that... Bad?" Harry asks then, the insecurity clear on his face "You don't have to..."

"oh, Harry, love, no... I want that, of course I do, I want whatever you want, its just that most guys don't want that, and whenever I ask for it, it's a hard no." Louis mumbles softly, leaning down to give Harry a deep kiss "Of course I'll do that for you."

Louis reaches for the lube again and squirts some into his palm, finally wrapping a hand around himself and groaning at the contact. He pumps himself a few times before looking back down at Harry, who's watching him with hooded eyes, biting his lip. Louis blushes softly then, leaning down to peck the other boys lips before moving to in-between his legs, propping himself up on an arm next to Harry's head before using the other hand to guide himself to Harry's entrance. 

The air was thick, Louis' mind a mess of Harry Harry Harry as he starts to push into his boy. He's gloriously tight, and Louis watches his face as he pops past the initial ring of muscle, trying to keep his eyes open to watch Harry's reaction. 

The younger boys face is serene - calm, as he moans softly, seeming to find pleasure over the pain of the stretch.

"Mhm... daddy." He whispers, Louis groaning softly at that.

"I'm here, baby. Daddy's got you." He whispers right back, linking his fingers through Harry's above the boys head when he asks for it, finally bottoming out after what feels like an age. He waits for a moment as he lets the boy adjust, both of their chests heaving at the pressure in the room.

"move, please... move." Harry whines out, and Louis is all too happy to oblige as he starts to slowly pull out, thrusting back in slowly and relishing in the small gasp Harry lets out from below him.

He's quick to build up a rhythm, thrusting deep into the boy below him, changing the angle as he goes to try and find his prostate again. He assumes he's successful when Harry gasps again and arches his back off of the bed, one hand flying up into Louis' hair and the other moving to clutch at his hip.

Louis moans as Harry clenches around him and starts to thrust relentlessly against the bundle of nerves, Harry a whimpering mess beneath him as Louis leans down to leave a trail of marks up his neck.

"Daddy..!" Harry cries out minutes later - it could actually have been hours, Louis honestly wouldn't be able to tell you - looking up at Louis with wide eyes, little 'uh uh uh's leaving him on every thrust of the older boys hips.

Louis is mesmerised watching Harry, the way that his breath stutters on the particularly hard thrusts, the way that his hair is matted down to the top of his forehead with sweat, the sweat glistening on his chest, the purple marks littering his skin. Everything about the boy is perfect, and Louis is so, so in love with him.

"Daddy's here, angel-" Harry lets out a sob at that -"you gonna come for me, baby?" Louis asks, thrusting faster as he feels his own orgasm building. Harry comes first - in both senses of the word. Harry nods quickly and arches his back off of the bed, throwing his head back and starting to push his hips down to meet Louis' thrusts.

"Fuck - Lou..!" Harry cries, choking on a sob. Louis is there, whispering in the younger boys ear and moving a hand to pump Harry once, twice, before he's coming in hot streaks up his own stomach with a cry of Louis' name.

Louis continues to pump Harry through his orgasm, coming moments after Harry and speeding up his thrusts. Harry's whole body shudders as he feels Louis coming inside of him, moaning softly with a drawn out 'yessss'.

Once they've both ridden out their orgasms, Louis slumps down onto Harry's chest, his face buried in the other boys neck, placing gentle kisses there as he waits for his heart rate to even out again.

"Fuck, Lou." Harry mumbles, a hand moving to play with Louis' hair gently "That was incredible."

"You can say that again." Louis mumbles and leans up again, looking down at Harry "I'm sorry that I made you feel like this wasn't something that I wanted. I just - I don't know. Of corse I wanted you like this, its just that I was able to ignore that need - that desire - because I craved spending time with you just as much. I've never had that before." Louis says quietly, gently cupping Harry's cheek.

Harry smiles gently and moves a hand up to cover Louis' on his cheek "Do you think you've found it?"

"Found what?" Louis asks, his face morphing into a confused frown.

"The love that you wrote about in your books." Harry whispers, biting his lip gently around his smile.

Louis is quiet for a moment as he studies Harry's face. The love that he has written about is romantic. It's classic and ageless and cheesy. The kind of love where you would go to the ends of the earth for that person, just to make them smile. And yeah, sure, that's how he feels with Harry, of course it is, but what they have is so much more. It's being able to be completely himself with no fear of judgement. It's about him being willing to go to a farmers market and to do gardening, just because it's time spent with Harry. It's about the fact that every single thought buzzing around in his head is calmed down completely as long as he has Harry there. 

It's being able to write more in the time he's spent with Harry in the last months than in the last year. 

Harry is his absolute definition of love. So yeah. He found it.

"That and more, my darling. That and more."

\----><\----

"Hello, love. How are you?" Louis' mum asks the next morning, Louis sat downstairs at the kitchen table as Harry bustles around to make them breakfast.

"Hey, mum... I'm good. How are things?" Louis asks with a grin, petting Gypsy as she jumps up onto his lap

"Things are good, not really much to report." Again, Louis can hear the smile in his mums voice "but what's this I hear about you finishing a draft?"

Harry sets the food down in front of them then - scrambled egg on toast this morning - and Louis smiles "Thanks, darling, looks delicious..." He mumbles and pecks Harry gently on the lips (definitely not just to see the way Harry's cheeks pink as he ducks his head bashfully).

"And yes, I did finish a draft. And it's pretty good, if I say so myself." Louis says to his mum then, gently lowering Gypsy to the ground with one arm as he starts to eat with one hand, the other holding the phone to his ear.

"Are you with Harry?" Jay asks, her voice impossibly betraying her giddiness now, as Louis rolls his eyes with a fond smile.

"Yes, I'm with him... he's just made breakfast actually." 

"That's adorable. I'm so glad you aren't eating that horrid microwave porridge anymore. Thank him for that for me, would you?"

"Microwave porridge isn't that bad!" Louis protests indignantly. He can't actually see his mothers face, but he's fairly sure that its exactly the same as the one that Harry is giving him across the table, making him pout faintly "I mean, it got me by..." His mums answering laugh is really something Louis can't argue with - she sounds happy for him, he thinks.

The rest of the conversation goes much the same, a small catch up, mostly, and ends with Louis promising to phone again tomorrow. Today, he thinks, is a him and Harry day. Not like every day for the past however long has been a him and Harry day, whatever. 

Today is different, Louis thinks, as he pulls Harry to his side later in the afternoon as they sit in the gardens Gypsy sprawled over their laps as they drink tea and giggle softly together like lovesick fools, because today is the official beginning of something very beautiful.

\----><\----

Louis' novel, which he started and finished all while out in the country with Harry, does just as well as his first two books, but remains his overall favourite for many years after because of who inspired it. Briefly, they try to move to the city together, but Louis quickly realises that it really isn't him anymore, and they're quick to move back. They keep Louis' apartment in the city so he can visit for the occasional meeting, but they knock down Louis' disastrously modern monstrosity (over time they grew to hate it even more) and expand Harry's beloved garden - back to how his grandmother kept it.

Five years down the line, and they've got two more cats (one deaf and one blind) and matching engagement rings as they settle down on the couch to rewatch some romcom they've seen a thousand times, Louis looks down at Harry who's somehow wrapped himself around the smaller man in a position that cannot be comfortable, wearing lime green dungarees and a white t-shirt, and thinks:

Yeah, maybe I am a country boy at heart...

No, definitely just a Harry boy.


End file.
